December 9th, 2002


No Jamaica for Phil

My employer was giving away about 50 prizes to various people via a raffle we entered into at the company Christmas party. I had a premonition about the Jamaica trip. I was close, but not quite correct. The Jamaica trip was won by a new person in my group, and the Waikiki trip was won by a guy I supervise. I guess my next real vacation will still have to be the one I was planning on paying for from my own funds, to Italy.

And so far, I've only received one comment from anyone about the kilt and collar I wore. Dammit, I want to be talked about. Course, if I want to hear the comments, I should probably hang out in the common area instead of hermitting myself in my office.

I feel like I should write something substantive, as I haven't really written anything that felt too meaningful recently. I have an idea for an editorial I want to write about a political thing. Might write that tonight. And then I was thinking about writing a series of entries about dating horror stories. Not relationship horror stories. Just about dates gone horribly wrong. I can think of at least 4: the lost wallet, the homeless girl, the girl who wouldn't let me out, and the girl who went on the date just because it was a good concert. They aren't exactly meaningful, but I like telling stories.